


State of Grace

by daisys



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, If Bella Swan had a sister, OCs are everywhere in this, Sorry Not Sorry, Will probably follow the books more than the movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-11 06:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisys/pseuds/daisys
Summary: Grace used to think she was outgoing and adventurous, maybe even a bit of a troublemaker. But when her big sister moves back to Forks, Grace finds herself an unwitting accomplice to Bella's misadventures. What sort of trouble are the Swan girls getting into now?





	1. Preface - Bait

**PREFACE**  
**Bait**

* * *

 

I never imagined how I would die.

You never really think about death when you are sixteen and careless, and your body is healthy and strong. Why should you? There are so many things for you to do—so many adventures to be had—and you still have so much time to do it all.

…Until you don’t.

Until suddenly, you are bound and gagged in the middle of an old ballet studio, held hostage somewhere in Phoenix. Alone with the hunter, you realize you are his bait. He is using you to lure out his main course, and there is nothing you can do otherwise.

That was, at least, the story of my life… and potentially my end. I hoped that no one else would ever be as unfortunate.

Through my drug-induced haze, I watched the hunter pace the length of the studio. I could see in his gait, in his eyes, the methodical calculation as he thought through every possible outcome of the situation he created. Through blurry eyes and a cloudy mind, I watched him saunter back towards me with a malicious grin on his face.

“Don’t fall asleep, _Gracie_ ,” the hunter said, spitting my name out as though it was something disgusting. “You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

I was too drowsy to do nothing more than glare at him weakly.

 _You cannot die here,_  I told myself as my eyelids grew heavy and my body weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this posted once, under a different title ("Trouvaille"). However, I hated what I had so far and so I deleted the entire thing and rewrote it and renamed it. Hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter One - The Life of Grace (So Far)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of introductions in this chapter! In case you don't like long chapters, this is very word-y, because I have a lot of ground to establish with characters that I have designed for the purpose of this story.

**CHAPTER ONE  
The Life of Grace (So Far)**

* * *

 

I was only a baby when my parents divorced. 

Just a couple months after my birth, my mother went stir-crazy. She packed some meager belongings into a couple suitcases and small boxes, loaded them into the trunk of her car, and carefully buckled my sister and I into our car seats before making the drive from Forks, Washington to Riverside, California. Together, the three of us moved in with her mother—whom Bella and I affectionately called _Gran_ —while Mom went back to school to finish her degree in teaching.

Honestly, our time in Riverside was a blur to me. To be fair, I _was_ only four when we moved again.

When Mom was done with school, she was quick to find a job teaching at an elementary school in Phoenix, Arizona. Once again, the three of us packed up our bags and hit the road. Settling in had been fairly easy—though, admittedly, that was the last thing on my mind at four years old. Mom was quick to enroll Bella and I into various community programs; she wanted us to make friends in the neighborhood as quickly as possible.

The nice thing about having a sibling that was only a year-and-a-half apart from you in age was that it was _convenient_ ; an instant friend. However, as much as I loved my sister, it quickly became apparent which sister had taken after which parent.

In her hometown and in Forks, our mother was notorious for being reckless and a free-spirit. In her youth, she made a lot of choices without fully thinking about the consequences. She was sociable, and she lived to laugh. Her adventures made for fun bed-time stories, but even in my age of naïve innocence, I considered my mother to be wild and rebellious. While having children and becoming a parent mellowed her out, she still sought after an adventure, but since she had Bella and I to consider, my mother restricted her thirst for thrill to a safer PG setting.

Our father was pretty reserved, almost to the point of being reclusive. Sure, he would go out to a local sports bar on occasion to watch a game with some friends or coworkers, but he often preferred the comfort of his own home to a crowded setting. Unlike Mom, who was reckless and unafraid, Dad was cautious and thoughtful. There was not a single time in my life that I could recall my father making a rash decision—even on the job, his choices and actions were carefully planned.

While Bella might have taken after our mother in looks, she inherited our father’s personality. By most standards, my sister was pretty; she was short, but she was cute. She always kept her straight hair long, and she had big brown eyes with long dark lashes that were constantly flitting around her surroundings as though she was _expecting_ for something to go wrong. Unlike our mother, who tanned beautifully under the Arizona sun, Bella’s fragile ivory complexion turned her into a lobster if she didn’t wear a high enough SPF. For the most part, Bella had a hard time reaching out to others—and frankly, she didn’t much care for reaching out to them. She preferred solitude over crowds. However, you put Bella into a stressful situation and she makes the same reckless decisions our mother would make.

I took after our father in looks, but inherited our mother’s approach on life. I was always tall for my age, and I switched up my hairstyle a lot—as a child, I often preferred it short—and unlike Bella’s sleek and straight mahogany-colored mane, mine was a deep chestnut and wildly curly. I inherited our mother’s large eyes, but instead of her warm brown tones, I ended up with mossy green eyes with golden-brown flecks. Unlike my sister, I tanned under the sun (though I was still cautious about how much sunscreen I wore). I was always meeting new people and making new friends. I enjoyed large crowds and thrived under attention. Like our mother, I sought after adventure and adrenaline rushes (as long as my safety was guaranteed). You throw _me_ into a stressful situation, and I like to weigh down my options much like my father would.

The summer I turned eight was the summer I decided that I wanted to live in Forks for a change.

Bella and I had just come back from spending the summer break with our dad. The three of us were in the kitchen eating a late breakfast when I dropped my spoon back into my bowl of cereal and abruptly said:

“I want to move in with Dad.”

Mom and Bella both stared at me, eyes wide and brows furrowed at my sudden declaration. I could see the figurative wheels cranking in their brains as they processed what I said, and slowly, I could remember seeing the sadness overcome their features (though Bella’s was quick to become anger).

“Well,” Mom said, trying not to look too hurt. “That was out of the blue. I’ll give your dad a call later and talk to him about it, okay, honey?”

Three weeks later, I was moving across the country and transferring schools.

It’s been seven-and-a-half years, and I have no regrets about my decision to move to Forks.

It had nothing to do with me liking my dad over my mom, or being worried about my dad’s wellbeing. In my first year living in the Olympic Peninsula, someone had been gracious enough to start a rumor that I had been kicked out of my old school (mind you, I had never even been in detention before). I loved Phoenix; the constant heat, the adventures, it had so much potential to be fun and adventurous. There was just something about Forks that resonated in my soul, you know?

Or, maybe all this rain has made me delusional.

Bella and I traded parents in the summer. In that time, we would spend a whopping total of four weeks together (during the beginning two weeks of summer, I would spend time with Bella and Dad before I took a plane down to Phoenix and spent the summer with Mom; and then, two weeks before I was due to return to Forks, Bella would come back to Phoenix and spend time with Mom and I before they sent me on a plane back to Washington).

When she was fourteen, Bella stopped coming to Forks. She _hated_ Forks. Instead, Dad would drive us down to California and the three of us would go camping for two weeks in the summer (Bella always hated _that_ too) and then Bella and I would go to Phoenix together.

In all honesty, my relationship with my sister became tense after my decision to leave Phoenix. In her eyes, I had abandoned her and Mom (I tell you, for being a recluse she could be unnecessarily dramatic).

I love my sister (I had no choice, we were _related_ ), but sometimes she could be so… _irritating_.

Like when she abruptly decided to move to Forks.

I get it, I have no reason to be mad about it because I pulled the same stunt, but Bella never bothered to hide her dislike of the small town I had come to love. _So why the hell was she suddenly moving to Forks?_

A throat cleared behind me as I was angrily rifling through the freezer. “Gracie?”

I practically jumped out of my skin, knocking my head against the refrigerator in the process. I hissed, pressing my hands to the growing lump as I turned to look at my dad.

He smiled at me apologetically. “Sorry, kiddo. Thought you heard me comin’,” he said. “You sure you want to cook tonight? I can always swing by the diner on my way home to pick up some food.”

“It’s fine,” I said more gruffly than I intended. “It’ll give me something to do.”

“Boy,” Dad said, watching me maneuver around the kitchen. “You are really upset about this.”

“ _I’m not_ ,” I insisted through gritted teeth. “It’s fine. _I’m_ fine,” I said as I searched through the cupboards to make sure I had everything I would need to make dinner tonight. I wasn’t planning on going out of my way to make something fancy for dinner just because my sister was moving in with us, but I would hate to have to make a trip to the store when there were so many other things I had to do in preparation for her arrival. “Anyway, Gillian is coming over to help me clean and then Max is going to pick us up and take us out. I probably won’t be home when you come back,” I said.

Dad sighed, and I tried to ignore his disappointment. “Grace—”

“We don’t get along, Dad,” I said, immediately going on the defensive as I turned to look at him. I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest as I met his gaze. “It’s been years since either one of us had a decent conversation. I hardly even know her anymore.”

“I get it, sweetheart. Really, I do. But she’s your sister, and family is all anyone’s got in this world anymore. Just give it a chance, alright? She’s just got a year-and-a-half left of school, and then she’ll be off to college. Will you _try_ to make her feel welcome?”

I stood there for a moment, pouting like a child, before I caved. “ _Fine_ ,” I sighed. “But I’m still going out.”

“It’s a school night,” Dad reminded.

“We’re probably just going to see a movie,” I said.

Dad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s only eight o’clock and I’m already exhausted,” he grumbled under his breath. “Alright, fine, but you have to be home by ten,” he said, pointing a warning finger at me.

“Fine.”

-:- 

Two weeks after I moved to Forks, my dad had forced me out of bed one dreary Saturday at five o’clock in the morning for a “surprise adventure”. I vaguely remember him bursting to my room, unusually chipper as he pulled me out from under my covers and helped me back a backpack with at least a whole week’s worth of clothes and toiletries, before he left me alone to get dressed. Less than thirty minutes later, we were in the car and he insisted on keeping our destination a secret. 

For as long as I can remember, my favorite summer pastime was to go camping—especially if that camping was in the mountains of the Olympic Peninsula. I discovered my love for adventure in those mountains, much to my father’s chagrin. I swore up and down, to anyone that would listen, that there was nothing more cleansing to the soul than fresh mountain air in your lungs.

Imagine my surprise when my father pulled into a campsite alongside several other vehicles just a short trek away from a hiking trail. Turns out, those other vehicles belonged to some of his friends that were joining us on this camping expedition.

In the years following, I would learn that my old man had put that party together for my sake. I would learn that he spent weeks getting in touch with his friends and organizing a camping/fishing expedition that was family friendly just so _I_ could make some friends.

There was Billy Black and his three kids—twin daughters, Rachel and Rebecca, and his son, Jacob, who was a year younger than me. Harry Clearwater and his friendly wife, Sue, had brought along their children, Leah and Seth. And then, there were the Fosters.

Daniel Foster, unlike the rest of the party, was a non-Quileute white man (like my own father). He and my dad had known each other since they were children, lost touch when they graduated high school—Dan went off to college at Washington State University while my dad went to a local community college—coincidentally, they both became police officers. His wife, Sandra, was Quileute. Like my mother, she was notorious for being wild in her youth. Their marriage was sudden and unexpected, but everyone could see from miles away that the two of them were soulmates. And unlike my own parents, their marriage was going strong. 

They had two children at the time, both of whom were also on the camping trip—a son named Grayson, who was a few years older than my measly eight years, and a daughter named Gillian that was the same age as me (they would go on to have a third within the next year, another boy whom they would name Gavin).

I bonded with everyone right away; I liked playing sports and did not shy away from getting dirty, I could fish just as well as the grown-ups, and I could climb trees like it were second nature for me all while looking like a cute little girl.

Gillian and I became fast friends on that trip, always attached at the hip. We had so many things in common that our little eight-year-old minds were blown. Following that summer, I never went more than a few days without seeing Gillian (the older we got, it became more difficult to manage the time between extracurricular activities and such, but we managed).

When she knocked on my door a couple hours after my dad left for work, I was more than relieved to see her.

“Thank you, again, for coming over to help me,” I said as I let her into the house. “I’ve got cookies baking in the oven, so they should be done in a little while.”

Gillian scoffed, “Don’t even sweat it, Grace. With your cookies as payment, I would cut a bitch’s throat,” she said with a grin. I rolled my eyes. “What are your orders, Captain?” she asked with a mock salute.

“I guess you can start mopping the floors,” I said, pointing to the Swiffer mop in the corner of the kitchen. “Other than that, I’ve pretty much done the downstairs. While you’re doing that, I’m going to go start on upstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am!” she said. “Hey, why are you doing all this spring cleaning, anyway?” she asked as she grabbed the Swiffer mop and made sure it was ready for use. “It’s just your sister.”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. It helps ease my anxiety about the whole thing, I guess.”

Gillian scoffed, raising an eyebrow at me as she started working around the linoleum in the kitchen. “ _Anxiety_?” she repeated. “What do you have to be anxious about?”

“What _don’t_ I have to be anxious about? Bella _hates_ this place, and she’s been very open about it over the years. And then, completely out of the blue, she decides she wants to move in with us? Doesn’t that sound sketchy to you?”

“No,” Gillian said, wrinkling her nose at me. “I think you’re an idiot.”

I rolled my eyes, throwing my hands up in the air. “What the hell? You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.”

“I am,” she said. “But you’re being an idiot. Look, G, I only know your family situation from what you’ve told me so I can’t judge anything going on without bias. I think you’re being unreasonable. Your sister has just as much of a right to live with the Chief as you do. I highly doubt she has any ulterior motives. What could they _possibly_ be, anyway?”

I pouted, saying nothing as she continued mopping the kitchen floors.

Gillian grinned. “C’mon, Grace. Just be nice to the girl. She’s your sister.”

I stood there for a few more minutes, wishing Gillian would just humor my childish tantrum. I knew she was right; I was being unfair, and immature. From my perspective, Bella had started this eight years ago when she called me a traitor and stopped speaking to me eight years ago. Still, that was eight years ago; people change, and I ought to be the bigger person anyway.

But, right now, I wanted to pout and be childish.

“Shut up, Gillian,” I said before storming up the stairs to start cleaning. I could hear her laughing behind me.

-:-

While my friendship with Gillian had been instantaneous, my friendship with Max had been more of a slow burn.

Maddox Orion Teague was a year older than me, the son of a doctor and a former hippie. For the most part, everyone at school liked him; he was charismatic, and funny, and the teacher’s appreciated that he always turned his homework in on time (and consistently scored relatively high marks).

There were not many rich families in a small town like Forks, but it was common knowledge that the Teagues fared better than most. Then again, Senior (not his real name… I don’t think I actually know his real name…) was a doctor at the hospital—a surgeon, no less—and Summer was able to stay at home and be a housewife.

I met Max during recess; a group of boys were starting a game of flag football. I approached, wanting to play. It was Max that took one look at my scrawny eight-year-old self and scoffed.

“Girls can’t play football.”

_Ohh_ , _boy_. Did that make me _heated_.

Insistent that I play, I managed to weasel my way onto the team my newfound nemesis was _not_ on. When the game started, I made quick work of joining the fray and chasing the ball. My speed and agility surprised most of them, and Max (who had been unlucky enough to _have_ the ball) was not prepared to see me tear his flag from his belt and tackle him to the ground.

“What the heck?” I remember him shouting at me. “It’s _flag_ football, genius.”

I grinned, throwing his flag down at him. “ _Oops_.”

“That doesn’t count!” he shouted to the scorekeeper. “She _tackled_ me!”

“What’s-a-matter?” I taunted, throwing my hands onto my hips as I grinned at him. “Can’t take a hit from _a girl_?” I said, while some other boys argued about the score.

Max growled, shoving me by my shoulders. “You _cheated_.”

“One, I grabbed your flag before I tackled you. I just showed poor sportsmanship. Two, _don’t touch me_ ,” I said, shoving him back.

“What are you gonna do about it, huh, new kid?” Max said, shoving me again.

So, I sucker punched him and tackled him to the ground again. It took four boys to pull me off of him.

The next day, I would come to school and find that the air between us had shifted into something else—a newfound respect. In the days after, Max would slowly integrate himself into my life. During recess, he would invite me to play games with him and his friends more, and he picked me to be on his team during any competitive games we played. Sometimes, my dad would be late picking me up from school; Max would wait with me—sometimes his mom would let us sit in her car while we waited for my dad’s police cruiser to pull up. Near the end of the school year, this kid was my best friend and we were attached to the hip as much as possible.

Over the years, people in the neighborhood would make jokes about our friendship at our expense. They would make off-handed comments about how all the “classic” childhood romance stories started out the same way ours did, and that the two of us were _the perfect couple_. But, unlike the fairytales, Max and I were not the childhood sweethearts everyone wanted us to be. Fate did not bring us together to be the romantic soulmates people wanted to see.

We were soulmates of a different breed.

The siblings neither asked for, but got anyway.

…Like, literally.

My dad has made it perfectly clear that Gillian and Max are unofficially adopted into our family (“They’re here so much I could probably claim them on my taxes,” he would say, but we all knew that my dad loved that I was able to create a life for myself in Forks).

When five o’clock rolled around, Gillian and I had cleaned the house from top to bottom—the whole place practically _shined_. In the back of my mind, I knew it was only a matter of days before my organization was ruined and the dust was recollected, but for now, I was satisfied.

Spent, we were sprawled out across the couch while an episode of _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_ played on the TV and dinner for my dad and Bella cooked in the oven.

Max knocked three times before throwing open the door. “Oh, _honey_ s! I’m home!”

Both Gillian and I let out mumbles of acknowledgment.

“That wasn’t very enthusiastic,” he said, his mop of curly dark hair popping over the couch as he frowned down at us.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Gillian groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. “You’re being a nuisance.”

I hummed in agreement, nibbling on one of the cookies I had baked earlier. “Want a bite?” I offered, raising my nibbled-on cookie up towards him.

Max leaned forward, taking a big bite of my cookie. I frowned, lowering my hand and staring at the small crescent-shape that remained of my cookie. “S’good,” he said around his bite. “So,” he said, looking up at the TV and watching Kim Kardashian have a meltdown. “What’s the plan today?”

“To be out until my curfew,” I supplied.

“Okay, great,” Max nodded. “Doing _what_ , exactly? It’s a Sunday. There isn’t exactly a whole lot happening.”

“I dunno. Dinner will definitely factor in somewhere,” I said. “Let’s just go and see what we can find.”


	3. Chapter Two - Bitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I have a potty-mouth! (Sorry, not sorry.)

**CHAPTER TWO  
Bitter**

* * *

In the end, the three of us got dinner at one of the many local diners in town. There were some other  kids from school there, and we somehow ended up grouped with them as we talked about various things—from the latest gossip, to our different classes, and what we could anticipate from the upcoming football team this year. Gillian, while not a student at Forks High School, was able to keep up with the conversation—though, I doubted she really cared about our small town drama when she lived in an even smaller town.

I had hoped that by leaving the comfort of my own home, I would be able to salvage a few hours of peace before the reality set in that I was no longer living as an “almost”-only child. Instead, everyone was practically buzzing with excitement when they saw me; they all clambered around to ask about my sister.

_What was she like?_

_Was she pretty?_

_Did she play any sports? Would she pursue any clubs?_

_What kind of shampoo did she use?_

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” I asked, rounding on one of the kids that had gathered around the booth we had congregated at. 

Eric Yorkie, a classmate and fellow member of the Forks High School journalism and yearbook committee, gave a feeble shrug of his shoulders in response to my outrage. “It’s hot news, Grace. We haven’t had a new student since the Cullens moved to town last year, and it’d been years since our last new face came to town.”

To be more specific, it had been almost seven years since the last time Forks had seen a new face prior to the Cullen family’s arrival. It was mine.

“So do another gossip column on how Edward Cullen makes his hair so big,” I growled.

Gillian snorted as I began to angrily suck down my milkshake, glaring daggers at Eric from across the table. “Ignore her,” she said, throwing an arm around my shoulders and reaching up with her free hand to pinch my cheek. “Gracie is just _jealous_ that people are paying more attention to her big sister than they are to her.”

I turned my head, making a point to chomp my teeth together. Her finger narrowly avoided being chewed off.

She scowled at me, keeping her hand a safe distance away from my teeth. “Brat.”

“She’s not even that special!” I insisted with a huff. “She’s the most anti-social, overdramatic person I have ever met. She’s clumsy, and irrational, and everything that goes wrong in her life is an outrage… and honestly? She’s kind of an idiot.”

“Sounds like jealousy to me,” Max said, shooting me a pointed look from across the booth.

“Sounds like a hypocrite to me,” Gillian mumbled under her breath as she bit into her burger. 

“ _I_ am _not_ jealous.”

No one believed me, but no one pushed the subject anymore. Any discussion that began to lead towards asking about my sister were promptly steered into a new direction.

In the back of my mind, I knew Gillian and Max were right. I was being hypocritical; while the Bella I remembered was overdramatic and spoiled, here I was living up to the reputation I was building for her in a town she had not seen since she was a child. Maybe I was a little jealous of all the attention she was getting? Everyone was acting like her coming here was _such_ a huge deal— _Chief Swan’s estranged daughter moving back in with her father_.

Okay, but _I_ was his daughter too. Where was the fanfare when I moved to Forks seven years ago? And I actually _wanted_ to live here. Bella hates it here!

By the end of the night, my mood had soured considerably. It did not help when Gillian would occasionally poke fun at the reasons behind my attitude. I tried to keep from lashing out (Gillian was the type that would push your buttons until you damn near exploded). I was still not over my sister’s abrupt arrival, but my reasons for feeling that way left a foul taste in my mouth.

I was acting childishly, selfishly, and ridiculously—I would never admit it out loud, though. It would, at least, explain why I was feeling so bitter near the end of dinner.

I was, by no means, perfect. I worked really hard to be seen as someone who was responsible, open-minded, active in the community, and strong-willed. I wanted people to take me seriously because of my character, and not because I was the daughter of the police chief. I still had a tendency to cause trouble; I found loopholes in arguments, caused a lot of arguments, I would sneak out of the house way past my curfew and stay out until the sun just barely peaked over the horizon. Sometimes, I was too stubborn and too caught up in my own beliefs, but I was getting better about getting off my high horse and accepting that there was more than just one “right” answer and it wasn’t always “my way or the highway”.

I decided that I was too bitter and uneasy to see a movie—not that it mattered, there was nothing playing within a time frame that would allow me to meet my dad’s set curfew. The three of us piled back into Max’s truck, and headed back to my house for the night.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Max asked as he pulled into the driveway.

“No,” I sighed. “You should go home before your mom starts to worry. Besides, it’s just going to be really awkward in the morning.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I said, throwing open the passenger’s side door and hopping out from the cab of his truck. “See you tomorrow, Max.”

“Bye, Jill. See you Wednesday.”

“See ya, Maddy,” Gillian cooed as she followed me out of the truck. Slamming the door behind her, she moved to stand beside me as Max began to slowly back out of the driveway. “Just so you know,” she said as we waved to the rusty blue pickup that was gradually disappearing down the road, “I planned on staying the night. I’m too tired to drive all the way back to the Rez.”

“You’re always welcome here,” I shrugged. “Does your mom know? You know how grouchy Dad gets when he gets woken up in the middle of the night from frantic phone calls.”

Gillian grinned, holding up her phone. “I texted her on our way back here. She’s cool with it. Says hi, by the way. She thinks you need to come over and have dinner soon.”

“It’s been a while,” I noted as I watched her walk down the driveway to where her car was parked on the side of the road. She grabbed a duffle bag from the backseat of her little Toyota before walking back towards me. Together, we headed up towards the front door.

To no one’s surprise, the door was unlocked. We barely batted an eye when I pushed the door open and saw that the TV was still on in the living room.

“Grace? That you?” Dad called.

“And Gillian,” I said, shutting the door behind us and turning the lock into place. “She’s going to stay the night, if that’s okay.”

He came into the hallway, looking tired. Still, he managed a small smile. “Does Sandy know?”

Gillian grinned. “Of course she does, Chief! What sort of monster do you take me for?”

Dad chuckled, “I don’t think you’re a monster at all, Gillian. I just still hold a small grudge about that time you decided to stay the night last summer.”

“C’mon, Chief,” Gillian whined. “That was last summer! I’m a different woman now.”

I rolled my eyes. “ _Anyway_ ,” I said pointedly. “We’re going to bed. Do you want me to make you anything specific for lunch tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry about it, Gracie,” Dad said. “I’ll give you and your sister money tomorrow. All the cool kids buy their lunches anyway, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I always make a lunch?”

“It's late, sweetheart,” he said. “Just go to bed.”

“Okay,” I sighed. Standing onto the tips of my toes, I kissed his cheek briefly. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,” he said to me. A little louder, he said, “Goodnight, Gillian.”

She grinned, practically skipping up the stairs to the second floor. “G’night, Chief!”

I followed behind her with a snort as she pranced down the hall to my room. I purposely ignored the light coming from under a room that was almost always vacant and headed straight for my bedroom.

I would face my problems and deal with my issues tomorrow.

… _Maybe_.


	4. Chapter Three - Awkward Tension

**CHAPTER THREE  
** **Awkward Tension**

* * *

 

I had gone to bed unable to achieve more than a strange in-between stage of being awake and asleep. I tossed and turned all night, trying desperately to get comfortable in my own bed; meanwhile, Gillian snored soundly beside me on the other side of my full-sized mattress. I was more than a little irritated when the alarm on my cell phone blared on my nightstand at 6am. 

To say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed would be an understatement.

Forcing myself to sit up in bed, I reached over and grabbed my phone from my nightstand. All it took was a quick swipe of my thumb across the screen and silence enveloped my room once more. The peace, however, was short lived as my exhaustion started to weigh down on my shoulders (that, and a hearty snore from Gillian reminded me that I couldn’t keep hitting snooze for as long as I wanted). I sighed, setting my phone back on the nightstand before glancing over at the girl hogging up most of my bed.

I swear, Gillian could sleep through a war if you let her.

Wrapping a corner of my pillow around my hand, I raised it up and brought it down across her exposed front with a solid _whack_! She groaned, rolling over onto her back.

“ _Fuck off_ …,” she mumbled.

“C’mon,” I said, already rising up from my bed and stretching my arms above my head. I could feel, as well as hear, some of my stiff joints popping throughout my body. “It’s time to wake up, Jill. I’m taking the first shower,” I said around a yawn.

Gathering up some towels, I left her alone in my room.

On any normal day, I might have given Gillian first access to the shower; she had a thirty-minute drive back to La Push, whereas it would only take me about fifteen minutes or less to get to Forks High School across town. But today, I was feeling a little selfish.

I blamed it on the lack of sleep.

I made my shower quick, so as not to use up all the hot water. When I got out, I felt a little less tense but significantly more tired. I stared at my reflection as I brushed my teeth, debating how much makeup I wanted to use to hide the dark circles under my eyes and the sallow-y look of my skin today.

Gillian was already waiting outside the bathroom, towel in hand, when I stepped out.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped.

I grunted in response, stepping around her to make my way down the hall.

“Tough crowd…,” Gillian mumbled before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

Once I was back in my bedroom, I shut the door behind me and started rummaging through my closet for something to wear. The goal today was for the sake of comfort rather than a style. Dark jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a black sweatshirt completed my look for the day. Using my towel to dry off my hair, I brushed it out to release the tangles and threw it up into a messy bun at the top of my head. In the end, I decided that no makeup was worse than having a full face caked with it; a little concealer in my problematic spots, a little powder and gel to fill in and tame my eyebrows, and a couple swipes of mascara on curled lashes made me feel like I had attempted to do more than I actually did.

Gillian came back into the room as I was finishing up with my mascara.

“I just met your sister,” she announced, rummaging through her duffle bag on the floor. “She’s kind of awkward.”

I rolled my eyes, closing the tube of mascara before tossing it back into my makeup bag. “Yeah, that’s Bella.”

“She seems nice enough. I don’t know why you have such a problem with her,” Gillian said conversationally, her tone light and airy despite knowing that this was not a conversation I wanted to have this early in the morning.

“Stop.” I warned, glaring over at her.

She shrugged, “I’m just saying.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“Ouch. What crawled up your butt and died?” Gillian scoffed, looking up at me and rolling her eyes.

I huffed, standing up from my vanity. “I’m going downstairs.”

To my surprise, I could smell bacon when I stepped into the hallway.

I spent most of my childhood eating cereal, soup, or ravioli out of a can on rotation before I told my dad I wanted to learn how to cook myself when I was about ten. I thought he would just sign me up for a cooking class in Port Angeles or something. Instead, he called every mother in the neighborhood that he personally knew and asked them to take me in after school and teach me how to cook.

Six years later, and I was a self-proclaimed culinary artist. My dad could cook basic meals, but I usually took care of most of the cooking in the house.

A person could only eat the same thing three times a day for so long before you started to lose your mind and your taste buds went haywire.

Making my way downstairs, I walked into the kitchen to see the table set for four—plates, silverware, _and_ cups!—with steaming plates of scrambled eggs, French toast, crispy bacon, and a carton of pulp-free orange juice.

The Chief sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, flipping through the morning newspaper as he took a sip of his coffee—or, as I liked to call it, his _liquid tar_.

“Morning, kiddo,” he said, smiling up at me from the newspaper. “You hungry?”

“You cooked.”

He smiled up at me, setting his newspaper down on the table. “Thought you could use the break,” he said.

“Yeah, but, you _never_ cook. I have to be on my _deathbed_ just for you to make Gram’s chicken noodle soup.”

Dad shrugged, a faint blush rising on his cheeks as his mustache seemed to bristle. “I can take care of my kids every now and then,” he grumbled.

Oh.

He was doing this for Bella. To make her feel more welcomed.

Because I was shit at doing that.

I smiled, though even I could tell that it was tight on my face. “Well… thanks, Dad. It looks great,” I said as I moved towards the table.

“ _Looks_ good, but it tastes mediocre. You’ve spoiled me, Gracie.”

I scoffed, making up my plate. “I’m not Gordon Ramsey, but I do alright. Besides, I still can’t make Gram’s chicken noodle soup like you do, Pop.”

Dad chuckled, taking another sip of his tar.

I sighed and poured my orange juice, opting not to comment (yet) on his poor taste in coffee.

Gillian burst into the kitchen first, her clothes as loud as her personality. “Gooood _morning_!” she chirped, dropping dramatically into the seat beside me. “Did you make all this, Charlie? Looks great.”

“Eat up, Jill,” Dad said simply as he gestured to the plates of food. “I made plenty.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, piling up her plate with mountains of food.

“ _Jesus_ ,” I hissed. “There’s still another person here that has to eat too! Quit being such a pig!”

Gillian rolled her eyes. “There’s more than enough left for her. Besides, have you seen her? She’s as thin as a twig. She looks like she might break in two if the wind blows the wrong way.”

“Um…?”

We all freeze, looking up towards the doorway. Bella stands awkwardly in the doorframe, fidgeting with her hands at the sudden attention while the three of us stared at her like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“G-Good morning?” she greeted, almost hesitantly.

I was the first to break the moment, reaching out to smack Gillian on the back of her head.

“ _What the hell_?” she shouted, whipping around to glare at me.

“You’re so rude,” I huffed.

"Oh, _I’m_ the one that’s rude?” she scoffed.

“Yes,” I said simply as I started to dig into my breakfast. Bella took the seat across from mine, on the other side of our father. I paused in my eating endeavor, looking up at her and catching her eye in an awkward sort of stare down. “Hi.”

“Uh, h-hey.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my seat. “You don’t have to look so uncomfortable.”

“Grace…” Dad said warningly.

“What? You want me to work at this, right? Well, _I’m trying_.”

“It’s fine,” Bella stuttered, staring intently down at her plate. “She’s right. We need to start somewhere.”

And start somewhere we did.

We passed around plates of food around until her dish was filled as the rest of ours.

Dad cleared his throat, passing me a carton of orange juice. “Grace likes juice in the mornings. Do you want some coffee, Bella?”

“Sur—”

“Dad made it,” I warned, sliding the orange juice towards her. Gillian snorted into her own glass of juice.

Bella wrinkled her nose, picking the carton up from the table and pouring some juice into her glass. “I’m good with juice.”

“What’s wrong with my coffee?”

And here I thought I could actually get through this breakfast without reminding my dad why I rarely let him into the kitchen to begin with.

“It’s _literal_ sludge, Dad. If there’s ever a tar shortage, all you have to do is whip up a couple thousand pots of this stuff and you could pave brand new roads across the state of Washington,” I said, biting into a piece of bacon. “Do you know how long it takes me to clean the coffee machine after you use it?”

“Oh, come _on_. You’re exaggerating.”

“She’s not too far off,” Bella said, one corner of her mouth rising in a shy smirk.

“Not you too!” Dad groaned.

I gave him a smug smile as I waved my half-eaten strip of bacon in his face. “ _Hah_!”


	5. Chapter Four - Work in Progress

**CHAPTER FOUR  
** **Work in Progress**

* * *

 

When breakfast was done, Gillian helped me put the dishes in the sink while Bella and my dad finished getting ready for the day ahead.

“Did you want to take anything that was leftover with you?” I asked, letting the sink run over the dirty dishes.

“What kind of monster would I be to turn down free food?” Gillian scoffed.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re right, how silly of me to think that you would even consider turning down such a gracious offer,” I said dryly. “Sheesh… People are going to think that your mom never feeds you or something.”

“She doesn’t,” Gillian said flatly, her expression straight. “She makes us go into the woods and hunt for mushrooms, and we have to catch our own fish for food.”

“Shut _up_ ,” I laughed, flicking water at her.

Laughing at our own ridiculousness, Gillian and I finished rinsing off some of the dishes and filled the sink with water, so they could soak until Bella and I came home from school and could properly wash them. I put the breakfast leftovers into a spare Tupperware container for her, sealing it all with a lid before passing it to her as she threw her backpack and duffle bag over her shoulder.

“Tell your dad I said thanks for the food,” she said as I walked her to the door.

“Yeah, I will,” I said. “Drive safe, okay?”

She grinned at me as she made her way down the driveway to her own car. “You know me!” Gillian called back. “I’m the _definition_ of safe.”

I rolled my eyes, waving to her as she got into her car and peeled out of the driveway and onto the road. I waited until I could no longer see her car in the distance before I walked back inside to finish getting ready for the day ahead.

-:-

I was not a genius by any means. However, it was not an impossible feat to be a sophomore taking higher-level classes.

I have always been rather studious. Between my extracurricular activities, I prided myself on my academics. It probably helped that my parents always stressed the values of an education. Growing up, they never pressured me to be a straight-A student, but it meant a lot to me to be on the honor roll for that very reason. In middle school, the eighth graders were given a standardized test at the end of the year to see which level of subjects they could take upon their entry into high school.

My strongest subjects were math and science; I tested into college-level understanding for both subjects. I tested high enough on the social studies/history portion that I qualified for classes a year ahead, and I had a pretty good understanding of English Literature and Writing, so I would be required to take all four years of high school English. Everyone was required to take two years of a foreign language and health studies/P.E.

This year, I was taking the only AP math and science classes the school had to offer. Next year, I would take online courses through a local community college. Rather than the sophomore level history class, I was in the junior government class and a sophomore writing class. There was also a French class and gym class thrown into my schedule.

I liked to think that I was doing fairly well for myself. I ranked within the top five of my class, and I was on the honor roll every semester.

“Bella!” I called out from the landing of the stairs, slipping on my sneakers as I leaned against the banister for balance. “Are you ready? We have to start heading out if you want to get there in time!”

She hurried down the stairs, mindful of her steps so as not to trip. “I’m ready,” she said, setting her backpack down so she could pull on her jacket.

I nodded, throwing on my own jacket before snatching my backpack from the floor. “Good. I’m driving,” I said quickly when I noticed her reaching towards the dish on the small table in the hallway by the front door. She paused, turning to frown at me. “Listen, that thing out front is a roaring hunk of metal. You won’t be able to hear me give you directions.” _And I don’t really want to die today._

Bella rolled her eyes. “It can’t be _that_ bad.”

“You can drive tomorrow,” I compromised. “I have dance practice after school, so I won’t even be in the car with you.”

“So dramatic…” she mumbled under her breath as we stepped out the front door. I made sure to lock the door behind us before leading the way towards my little red Volkswagen.

When we got to school, I made sure to point out the different parking lots.

“That one is for the administration,” I said, pointing out the lot closest to the front of the school. “Try not to park there because they won’t hesitate to tow your car. There’s a decent amount of student parking behind the main office, though,” I said, driving past said building to get to the designated student parking in the back. I parked in one of my usual spots, closest to the building where the gym was. It was far away from the admin building and the building where my first class was, but gym was my last period and my car would be a short jog away.

We climbed out of my little Jetta and made our way back up the parking lot towards the administration building. I didn’t bother pointing out the different buildings to her because I didn’t want to overwhelm her.

The front office was brightly lit by obnoxious fluorescent lights, and the thermostat was set to a temperature meant to quickly suffocate all visitors and office inhabitants. However, the school secretary sat comfortably at her desk in her purple t-shirt and black pants.

“Good morning, Grace,” she greeted cheerily, pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. “What brings you in this fine day?”

I smiled, gesturing to Bella beside me. “I’m just showing my sister, Isabella, around. She needs her schedule, and a map of the school.”

“Oh! Of course,” Mrs. Cope said as she hopped up from her seat. She dug through a pile of precariously stacked papers on her desk until she found the ones that we needed. “Here’s your schedule, and a map of the school,” she said to Bella. “Some last minute papers your dad needs to fill out, and I need you to have your teachers sign this slip and bring it back at the end of the day.”

“Sounds good, thanks, Mrs. Cope,” I said as I took the papers from her. “Mind if I borrow some of those highlighters and map out her route?”

“Help yourself, sweetheart,” she said before walking back to her desk.

I slid Bella down to the end of the front desk, snatching some highlighters out of the pencil box before putting her class schedule and the school map side by side. I went down her classes, using different highlighters to mark the best routes to each class. 

“Looks like I’ll be with you in a couple of classes,” I told her as I passed the papers back to her.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were a freshman?” 

“Sophomore,” I corrected. She nodded, looking away in embarrassment. “But I’m also in some upper-level classes,” I said.

“Your sister’s not just a pretty face,” Mrs. Cope chimed in from her desk with a friendly smile on her face. “Gracie, here, is one of our first ever hybrid students. She has the potential to graduate a year earlier if she keeps up her grades and flies through her courses like she has been.”

Bella raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.”

I shrugged, readjusting the strap of my backpack on my shoulder. “I try not to brag about it. Thanks, again, Mrs. Cope,” I said as I started to make my way out of the front office.

“Bye, girls. Have a nice day,” she called out to us as Bella trailed behind me.

“Does Mom know that you’re that advanced in school?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I mumbled, looking down at my feet to hide my blushing cheeks. “I’m not the only one in the program, I’m just one of the first students to try it. It was an opportunity to get some great scholarships. College is really expensive, especially between two of us so close in age.”

“That’s great, Grace,” Bella said, looking at me with a fondness I was unused to seeing from her.

I cleared my throat, readjusting the straps of my backpack on my shoulders. “So, this is building one,” I said, changing the subject.

-:-

When the Cullens moved to Forks last year, it had been the hottest gossip the town had had in at least five years. The family patriarch was a doctor at the local hospital, his wife was an architect, and they had five children. Forks hadn't seen genuine newcomers in years, so it was a real treat for people to try and get the hot scoop on the Cullens. Imagine the insanity that ensued when word got out that the new doctor was a total babe straight out of a magazine—along with his wife and their five _adopted_ children. 

I remember the first time I heard about them; I was eating at a coffee shop in town with Gillian and Max, and two soccer moms at the table next to ours were gushing about the new doctor. My sympathy for them was instantaneous.

I was familiar with what it was like to be in the center of all the gossip in this small town. My family history was no secret; everyone knew about my mom leaving my dad, and the rumors they started were awful. My dad took it all in stride; he never really listened to gossip and he never really let it bother him, but it was still awful. Being the daughter of the town's Chief of Police, it was no surprise that as I got older I would become the star in many an outrageous fabricated story… and it sucked. I could handle a rumor floating around, but it was that I was being so scrutinized that frustrated me.

When school started that fall, the Cullens were all anybody could talk about. I remember watching my peers fawn over the five children of Doctor Cullen and his wife, raising an eyebrow as everyone gushed about how good-looking they were. Yes, I had noticed; I, too, was mystified by how people so beautiful existed in Forks (of all places). But, I was also not about to sacrifice my dignity.

Eventually, there were rumors.

The Cullens liked to keep to themselves. They really only ever associated with others unless they had to. Edward was constantly turning down approaches from eager high school girls, and Rosalie was shooting daggers at anyone who came too close to Emmett, and Jasper always looked like he was in constant agony, and Alice and Emmett seemed perfectly content simply associating with their family. Of course people were going to talk, especially when word got out that Emmett and Rosalie were dating, and Alice and Jasper were a couple.

"But they're _siblings_."

"They're all adopted," I remember pointing out to someone during lunch. "None of them are related except for the Hale twins, and they're not dating each other."

It didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were all technically family and living together that was strangely taboo to most people in our small, quiet town.

Jasper and Rosalie Hale were—in my opinion—the most intimidating out of the five. Even more so than big, burly Emmett—who was really just a giant teddy bear once you got past his tough exterior. There was just an aura around the Hale twins that was… _daunting_.

Imagine my horror when, back on the first day of school, these two frightening supermodels waltzed gracefully into my first period AP Calculus class and sat down directly behind me and Max. What did I have to be afraid of, you ask? I’m not sure, but I knew that I just _was_.

Over time, however, I think I earned some of their respect. Or, at least, Rosalie’s glare stopped being so harsh whenever I turned around to ask if she or Jasper got an answer to a question I was somehow stumped on.

Max was already seated in his usual seat by the time I walked into Mr. Varner’s classroom. He was drinking out of a Styrofoam cup from my favorite coffee shop downtown, and there was a second steaming cup with a matching logo on my desk.

“Maddox Teague,” I exhaled, sliding into my usual seat beside him. “You are a blessing,” I said, kicking my backpack beneath my seat and wrapping my hands around the warm cup.

“I take it last night was pretty rough?” he said, raising an eyebrow at me as I sipped the coffee. _Mmm, perfection_.

I shook my head, shrugging my shoulders. “The only thing rough about last night was Gillian’s snoring,” I admit. Max snorts. “The thing with my sister… Well, it’s a work in progress,” I admitted.

“Look at you, being all mature and shit,” Max teases, reaching across the aisle between our desks to ruffle my hair.

I swatted his hands away with a scowl. “What are you talking about? I’ve _been_ mature. This isn’t some new discovery,” I scoffed, sipping my coffee.

“That’s rich coming from the girl who spent the day of her own sister’s homecoming at a movie theater.”

Before I could retort, the warning bell rang, and students began to trickle into the room. The noise that abruptly flooded into the classroom made me grimace and sink down in my seat, ending any further discussion with Max, despite my strong desire to verbally tear him to shreds (really, I was just upset about my own wounded ego—I was slowly beginning to realize how selfish I was being).

I only looked up again when the chatter became a hushed whisper. Rosalie and Jasper Hale had just walked into the classroom with the grace of… I don’t know, superhuman ballerinas or something and captured everyone’s attention.

Like I said, it was hard not to acknowledge their captivating beauty. I found myself gawking at them with the same mystified looks as the rest of our peers, and I hated myself for it.

Well, at least until Jasper looked up from his shoes long enough to catch my eye and send me a sly smirk and a wink.

I swear I could feel my heart jump into my throat and make an attempt to leap itself onto the floor at his feet. Instead, I inhaled my coffee and coughed until my throat went raw.

Two-and-a-half years was not that much of an age gap, but he was eighteen and I was still a few months shy of sixteen, and there was no way someone like him would even have the mildest interest in me. Sigh. But a girl sure can dream.

Varner walked in just as the final bell rang, immediately jumping into a lecture. I sighed, flipping open my notebook and following along with the lecture while simultaneously daydreaming about the boy sitting right behind me.


	6. Chapter Five - Bad Luck Gene

Bella gave Eric Yorkie a vague smile, unsure about how to handle such forward pleasantry and attention as she stepped into her government class. To her relief, and mild surprise, she saw Grace sitting in the back corner of the classroom, chin propped up on the heel of her hand as she stared blankly out the classroom window. Walking up to the teacher, Mr. Jefferson, she handed him the slip of paper she needed him to sign; he did, and then spared her from having to give a cheesy introduction by telling her to take any open seat.

There were only a handful of other students in the classroom, and while she considered the possibility that Grace would want to keep her distance, Bella thought it would cause an unnecessary stir among the school if she sat anywhere else but somewhere near her little sister.

So, she took the open seat next to Grace.

“Hey,” Bella said, dropping her backpack behind the desk.

Grace looked over, almost lazily. “Hey,” she returned, leaning back in her seat and stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. “How was your first class?”

Bella grimaced. “It was… fine,” she said slowly.

Grace smiled sympathetically. “You’re the current hot commodity,” she said. “Everyone wants to be your friend, get the hot gossip about being the estranged daughter of the town’s police chief.”

“What about you?” Bella scoffed, unzipping her backpack to pull out her own notebook.

“Like I said, you’re the _estranged_ daughter of the Chief as far as these guys know. I’ve been around for years. I’m old news and people are over me.”

Bella hummed in response, but it was lost in the sound of the warning bell ringing and students flooding into the classroom. For a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder what kinds of things her new peers knew about Grace that she missed out on…

-:- 

“See you in a couple of hours,” I said to Bella as we parted ways at the end of class.

She gave me a small, nervous smile in return before walking down the other end of the hall with a short wave. I watched her disappear around the corner before I made my way to my next class in building four.

Building four, however, was a quick jog across campus from where I was currently located. To my chagrin, the rain that was a light drizzle earlier this morning was now coming down much harder, and even with my years of experience living in Forks, I could _not_ find my umbrella in my backpack. So, with a heavy sigh, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and walked briskly to my next class with my head turned down to avoid the onslaught of water falling from the sky.

“Ah,” Mr. Banner said with a smile as I stepped into the lab. “Good morning, my little prodigy.”

I smiled at him, pulling down the hood of my sweatshirt and shaking out my jacket. “Morning, Mr. Banner,” I greeted him, making my way over to my assigned lab table.

I tucked my backpack into one of the little cubbies under the granite table top and waited.

Mr. Banner prepared for class, erasing the notes written on his white board from his last class and pulling out papers no doubt for our assignments today. “And how is your day going so far, Grace?” he asked conversationally as other students began to trickle into the classroom before the bell.

I hummed in response, doodling in the corner of my notebook as I considered his question. “It’s another day,” I admitted vaguely. “Nothing uniquely exciting, but more than just an ordinary day.”

Mr. Banner nodded just as the warning bell rang, encouraging a flood of students into the classroom. “Hi, good morning. Hello,” he greeted the students as they hurried in before final bell.

Max slipped in with the crowd, pulling down the hood of his jacket and shaking out his wet hair as he slipped into the seat beside me. “Hey, partner,” he said, tossing me a bag of chewy fruit snacks. “Brought you a present.”

“What are these from?” I asked, tearing open the small package and shoving it into the front pocket of my hoodie to eat discretely—food and drinks were not allowed in the lab, after all.

“Because I know Spanish so well, and Mrs. Goff loves me.”

I snorted. “ _Teacher’s pet_.”

“You’re one to talk,” he said, shooting a pointed look up at Mr. Banner. “Don’t act like you don’t kiss ass for a good grade every now and then.”

“I can’t help that I’m _gifted_.”

“Giftedly _stupid_ ,” Max scoffed. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you got as far as you have.”

“ _Hey_ —!”

The final bell rang, cutting me off from defending myself. I snapped my mouth shut, pursing my lips into a thin line as I settled for glaring at him as Banner ushered the stragglers into the classroom and called for everyone to find their seats.

Once more, the room went quiet as Jasper Hale walked in. I made it a point to look straight at the front of the class, to avoid embarrassing myself worse than I had this morning.

Mr. Banner clapped his hands, calling the room to his attention. I was acutely aware of the rustling behind me as Jasper took his seat at the table behind mine. “So,” Banner says, “let’s talk about _kinetics_.”

-:- 

“Have you ever thought about how ironic it is that Mr. Banner shares a name with a fictional superhero, and he has an interest in science stuff too?”

“Mr. Banner isn’t the Hulk, Max.”

“ _I know that_ , but like, it’s a funny image.”

I rolled my eyes, piling some (questionable) food onto my lunch tray before making my way to the check out. “It’s really not. The only person entertained by the idea is you.”

He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Killjoy.”

Good.

“Uh-oh,” he said suddenly.

I looked up, following his gaze towards the doors of the cafeteria.

Uh-oh was right…

My unfortunate sister had gotten caught up with the likes of one Jessica Stanley, the nosiest gossip in all of Forks, and was being dragged over her table of self-proclaimed popularity.

 _Yikes_.

“Should we save her?” Max asked, paying for his own food.

“Nah,” I shook my head. “She’s a big girl. It’d just embarrass her if I came to her rescue,” I said, leading the way to a vacant table across from the one my sister was seated at.

She looked up, as if sensing that we were talking about her. A small, meek smile crossed her face and I could see the desperation in her eyes—a cry for help. I gave her a small smile and a helpless shrug in return as I sat down across from Max.

“Poor kid,” he said, shaking his head as he started to eat his… well, I _think_ it was supposed to be a burrito.

I grimaced as I watched him shovel his face. The safest thing I could find were a couple of slices of cheese pizza that looked reminiscent to cardboard and a bagel. “This,” I said, holding up my… _pizza_ , “is exactly why I make my own lunch.”

“So why didn’t you?” Max asks around a mouthful of burrito, so it comes out as, “So wh’id’nt’oo?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you animal,” I scoffed, bunching up a napkin and throwing it at him. “And I didn’t because my dad _insisted_ that all the cool kids by their lunches.”

“The Chief never complains about you making food.”

“I think he thought I would try to poison Bella, or something.” I said, slathering my bagel with some cream cheese. Max blinked at me. “Shut up! I would never!”

He scoffed in response.

“There you are, Chief!” a familiar voice called out.

Sharing a disdainful look with my friend, I could only sigh as Eric Yorkie and the rest of the journalism club settled down around us. “It’s not like I was really trying to hide…” I wasn’t. I was just trying to eat my lunch in peace.

“Funny, Chief!” Oh, no. He wanted something. “So, listen. The gang and I were all talking, and we think it’d be pretty cool to do an introductory piece on your sister. It’d be a nice way to give everyone the scoop on our new student and welcome her to the school, don’t ya think?”

“That sounds horrible,” I said flatly. Max nearly choked on his burrito as he laughed.

“I think you’re missing the bigger picture, Chief.”

I shook my head. “Listen, I’m not going to stop you but I’m definitely not going to help you. Bella is her own person, and she’s definitely old enough to consent to an interview if she wants.” 

Eric raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

“Wait,” Max said, setting his hands down on the table as he looked at me in curiosity. “People still _read_ the school newspaper?”

I snorted, watching Eric’s face morph into a look of disdain. Several of my other peers just rolled their eyes.

“Well,” I said, rising up from my seat. “It’s been nice talking to you all, but I really need to dash.”

“We just sat down,” Max protested as I picked up my tray of unfinished food and walked it over to the nearest trash bin.

“Yes, but I seem to have forgotten an unfinished homework assignment. Maybe if I’m quick, Google translate can help me finish the last of my French assignment,” I said to him over my shoulder. I plucked my bagel off my tray before dumping the rest of the contents into the trash, waving to Max as I started walking backwards towards the doors. “See you later, gator.”

I would just like to point out that, while I am notorious in the community for being athletic and graceful (no pun intended), I am a Swan and a Higginbotham by blood and both sides of my family are known for the incredible amount of bad luck that seems to follow them.

So, of course, walking backwards _anywhere_ would spell trouble for someone with my genes.

My back collided with another body, the effects of tripping into them alone were enough to nearly send me sprawling to the ground. I managed to catch myself—sort of—and in my flailing attempts to whip around and apologize, I nearly face-planted the floor at their feet. Fortunately, they were strong and fast and were able to catch and steady me back on my feet before I could break my face on the floor.

“Careful, Grace,” Jasper says as he steadies me, staring back at me with wide golden eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I-I-I…”

Is it hot in here, or is my face actually on fire?

I swallowed over the lump in my throat, acutely aware of his family gathering around me in all their statuesque glory and staring at me with their intense eyes—like predators stalking their prey. “I’m sorry,” I somehow managed to croak out, feeling a lot a helpless bunny in a den of lions. 

He smiled and I swore my heart melted, even with Rosalie Hale looming over my shoulder and fixing me with a heated glare. “It’s alright,” he said, pulling his hands back to his side. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” I squeaked. “I’m, uh, just… gonna leave now.”

“Okay.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was an accident.”

“Right… okay, bye!” I said, all but sprinting for the cafeteria doors and throwing myself out of them. Later, when I would think back on this incident, I would swear that I could hear Emmett laugh. But at the current moment, all I could focus on was my own embarrassment as I raced off to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I stayed up until 3:45am writing this when I should have been working on a research paper. But, you know... priorities.


End file.
